


Not A Creature Was Stirring

by bubbleforest



Category: Backstreet Boys, Popslash
Genre: Don We Now Our Gay Apparel, M/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 07:25:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleforest/pseuds/bubbleforest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin's beautiful in eyeliner, AJ's always thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Creature Was Stirring

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Make The Yuletide Gay](http://www.maketheyuletidegay.org) in 2009.

Two months, twenty days and two hours into it, and AJ's starting to hate the tour bus again.

Kevin finds him leaning up against the empty bunks at the end of the hall, his feet tucked under one of the small drapes that shroud them from view and picking at his nail polish. It's not a new thing for them anymore, but AJ still has to squash down that initial sense of failure that tenses up the small of his back.

"Hey," Kevin says quietly. His voice isn't sleep-rough, and AJ can't help but shake his head. He doesn't look when Kevin settles down next to him, his legs bent awkwardly in the cramped space.

He works a large chip of dark blue nail polish off. "Did you know that the king of hearts is the only king without a mustache?" he asks, flicking it off his thumb and onto the carpet.

"Um." Kevin sounds slightly amused now. "No? Do you go around checking for these things?"

"It was on the back of some restaurant menu one time," AJ mutters, dropping another nail polish chip on the floor before looking up. "I don't know. Just … trying to make this less stupid."

"Oh well, then mustaches are obviously the way to go," Kevin says, looking fondly exasperated.

AJ grins despite himself. His eyelids droop as he reaches up to pick a piece of lint off of Kevin's shoulder, movements careful. "It's ridiculous, though," he murmurs. "You don't have to do this every night."

Kevin tucks his head down slightly and shifts just so their shoulders are pressed together. "I kind of do," he says, when AJ looks at him again.

It's not about withdrawals. People around him notice when he doesn't sleep, because he can't hide the dark circles unless he pulls out the sunglasses, and he's been trying not to do that as much. So every once in a while Brian suddenly starts watching him like a hawk, or Howie gets awkward like they're strangers, or Nick avoids him at all costs. AJ gets drilled on every kind of defense mechanism during AA meetings, so he gets it. It's not the problem, though. He's getting tired of blaming everything on the drink anyway – it's too easy, even though thinking something like that makes him kind of nauseous, because, easy, really?

Kevin doesn't need him to explain these things that he's still not fucking articulating right, even in his own head. He gets that AJ's going through stuff and doesn't start to deal with it until he's lying in his bunk at night staring at the claustrophobic walls.

"I'm going to get a new outlook," he tells him. Kevin's tipped his head back against the bunk and is looking at him with that calm brand of intent that he has. It's more distracting than it should be. "Soon. Maybe I'll find Jesus and become a monk."

Kevin laughs, very low. "Well, you have the hair for it."

AJ can't possibly roll his eyes any harder, but he ends up smiling anyway, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Can we just," he starts, trying to ignore that uncomfortable prickling under his skin, "I don't know. I can't just sit here."

It takes a moment, long enough for AJ to register the engine of the bus humming through the floor. Then Kevin nods, his gaze lowering. "Sure," he says, and pushes to his feet.

 

Bus kitchens are a cramped space that always makes AJ feel like he's on a set of one of those cooking shows, homely atmosphere on one side of the camera and illusion-enhancing technology on the other. The bitter comes out at night, he thinks wryly, holding Kevin's chin steady with one hand and applying the eyeliner carefully with the other.

"Please don't poke my eye out," Kevin says, but he sounds fairly calm about it, and AJ's mouth quirks in a half smile.

"Won't," he mutters distractedly, stretching out the black line on Kevin's eyelid bit by bit. It's an awkward angle, sitting next to him like this, and the light is bad as it is, so with a frustrated little noise he swings one leg over both of Kevin's and straddles him on the couch.

Kevin's hands fly up to his waist, either because he's surprised or just to steady him, and AJ settles down without focusing on the look on his face too much. "Easier like this," he adds, though he probably doesn't need to.

The bus is never completely quiet, but the whirring of the engine has settled itself in the back of AJ's head and slowly morphed itself into sounding like silence. He finishes the line on Kevin's lid gently, taking his time.

"I'm just saying," Kevin replies, voice gruff. It seems like it's been a long pause in the conversation. He clears his throat. "Potholes."

AJ smiles again. "I'm being careful," he says, setting the pencil down. "Close your eyes," he adds, because Kevin's looking at him again, head tilted back a little. It takes a second, but then Kevin does, and AJ exhales slowly. The eyeliner is so creamy that his fingers are already stained just from mild contact, so it's easy to smudge out when he brings his thumb up and swipes it gently across Kevin's eyelids. First one, then the other, blending the black in with the skin. New worry lines, AJ thinks to himself, cupping Kevin's jaw with his free hand and directing his face where he wants it.

Kevin's gone loose, accommodating, and when AJ rubs his thumb gently over the frown on his brow he breathes a small laugh. "Can't make that go away," he mutters, hands sliding down an inch along AJ's sides.

AJ grins a little, because, well, yeah. He fans his thumb briefly under Kevin's eye before he says, "all right. All done."

Kevin blinks, and it's slow, the way he looks up, or maybe AJ just sees the roaming line Kevin takes from his neck to his face because he wants to. Kevin's eyes seem sharper with the eyeliner, the green in them much more overwhelming, and it looks amazing, it looks like too much and it suits him so goddamn well. AJ fucking loves that Kevin lets him do these things, the same way he loves that Kevin gets ridiculous fauxhawks or wears skirts to award shows. God, he'd been beaming with pride and solidarity that day, hovering around Kevin as much as he could. They're all about self expression, the two of them, and AJ's still trying to find that balance Kevin has that makes it less permanent. Less damaging.

"So," Kevin says, looking up at him expectantly. "New look?"

AJ grins. "Definitely." He touches Kevin's jawline again, almost involuntarily. Kevin doesn't pull away, and his gaze is steady. "Hire me as your makeup artist and the ladies will never leave you alone again," he says slowly, hyper aware of the stubble scratching along his palm.

Kevin's hands move around to the small of his back. "Seems kind of pointless," he says, his smile light and not very present.

AJ nods. His eyes drift down to Kevin's neck, long and smooth, a clean canvas. He wants to run his black thumb along the collarbone so he can finally leave a mark of some kind.

"You tip your head back like that when you sing," he murmurs, and Kevin's eyes seem to flash like this, dark and questioning and on him so fucking intently. His hands tighten hard on AJ's back, and AJ breathes out an incredulous laugh. "Sorry," he mutters, untangling himself before he stands upright. "So the wrong thing to say."

Kevin stands up as well, taking a firm hold of AJ's wrist. "It's not," he says in a low voice. He doesn't move. "It's not."

It's an old song and dance by now, but AJ's more okay with it by now than he knew he could be. They stay up sleepless nights and wrestle something that can't be fixed, because it seems like the only way to deal with it. It's hard though, when Kevin knows that he's AJ's problem, when AJ knows that he's Kevin's as well. Kristin's in there somewhere too, weaving in and out of it even though she's never been involved beyond saying, "I trust you two," and hugging AJ hard one day over breakfast.

He shakes his head slowly and manages a half smile. "Get that stuff off before you go to sleep, okay?" he says, brushing the corner of Kevin's eye. "We've all had enough makeup lectures over the years."

Kevin smiles back. "Don't worry," he says, and then, "hey," and tugs AJ into a hug. His hands move warmly up and down AJ's back, and when he buries his face in AJ's neck, AJ feels the sigh before he hears it. "Hey," he says again, muffled and warm. "It's almost Christmas."

AJ tucks his head into the crook of Kevin's neck. His grip on the back of Kevin's shirt is tight enough to hurt. "Yeah," he says gruffly, as the carpet scratches the soles of his feet.


End file.
